


rules of engagement

by septmars



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Temeraire Fusion, Dragons, F/M, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septmars/pseuds/septmars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick learns something new about Anne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rules of engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ardentaislinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/gifts).



> For ardentaislinn, who requests an AU fic about Frederick/Anne. Not exactly steampunk, but when you say you want Anne to be a captain of her own ship I can't resist writing a Temeraire fusion. I hope you like it!

“Captain Wentworth.” Anne stands up when he enters.

“Miss Elliot.” Frederick restrains himself from kissing her hand. Later, after she answers him. Instead, he makes a perfunctory bow.

Anne doesn’t smile. There is a certain graveness in her expression that made Frederick fear for the worst.

“I have received your letter,” she begins.

Frederick’s heart falls, but he quickly composes himself. Didn’t he expect that she will say no? It has been eight years after all.

“And?” he says.

“Before I give you my answer, I want to take you somewhere.

He looks at Anne, his first and second love. It is not like her to be so roundabout about matters of the heart. Even when breaking their engagement she had been mercifully straightforward. “Anne, if you want to refuse me – “

“No!” she bursts out, a stricken look on her face. Then, she takes a deep breath. “No,” she repeats, gentler, calmer. “I am not refusing you, Captain Wentworth. I shall take you somewhere and my answer depends on your—your reaction.”

“But Miss—Anne, I don’t understand. Does it matter what my reaction will be? I would still want to marry you, whatever happens.”

Anne looks grim.

\--

The carriage takes them to a large building in the outskirts of Bath, far from where polite society congregates. Despite its isolation, there are noises coming from the inside and a lot of people around: workmen shouldering heavy leather straps, young children carrying pails of water.

Anne walks resolutely to the building’s door. There are two men guarding it, each of them carrying a rifle. Instinctively, Frederick reaches to the place where his gun would usually be, although he never carries it in the mainland. Just this once he regrets not carrying it. This place doesn’t look at all safe.

Just when he is about to call to Anne to leave, one of the guards catches them.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” he says and lifts his cap.

It takes Frederick a minute to realize that the guard isn’t addressing _him._

“Good afternoon, Bowden,” Anne replies, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing a guest?”

Bowden looks at Frederick with unabashed curiosity. “No, Captain. Any guests of yours is welcome here.” He bows to Anne and signals something to someone invisible.

The door of the building opens with a heavy creak. Anne walks in and Frederick, after snapping out of his confusion, has to break on a run to keep up with her.

What he thought was a factory turns out to be a pavilion: a _dragon_ pavilion. The building is filled with aviators and their mounts, from little grey couriers that he sometimes encounters when at sea, to slumbering red monsters.

Anne leads him to almost the end of the building, where a large blue dragon is curled sleeping. A child is filling the trough in front of the dragon with water. The child looks up, sees them, and snaps into attention.

“Captain!” he shouts, saluting Anne.

“Good afternoon, Mackenzie,” Anne replies with a nod. “Where are the others?”

“Rogers, Wilson, and Vauxhall is washing the harness. I don’t know about the others, ma’am.”

“Very well, we’ll get to them later. There’s someone I want you to meet, Mackenzie.” Anne turns to him. “This is Captain Frederick Wentworth of the _HMS_ \--. Captain Wentworth, this is  Mackenzie, runner of Lysistrata.”

Mackenzie looks at Frederick with the same unabashed curiosity of Bowden the guard. He extends a hand. “How do you do, Captain?” his voice is higher than the cabin boys in his ship usually had.

“Er, how do you do,” Frederick mumbles, still dumbfounded.

Right at that moment, there is a rumble coming from the blue dragon. Frederick jumps, taking a step back. The dragon stirs, uncurling itself with one languid movement.

“Anne?” it says, voice heavy with sleep.

“It’s me, Lys.”

The dragon blinks twice then swoops to nuzzle Anne. “You haven’t visited much. I’m starting to miss you.” Then the dragon turns its attention to Frederick, its large serpentine eyes glinting. “You brought a guest.”

“Yes. This is Captain Frederick Wentworth of the _HMS_ \--. Captain Wentworth, this is Lysistrata of His Majesty’s Aerial Corps.”

The dragon regards Frederick carefully, as if it is debating whether or not he will be delicious enough to eat. But then the dragon shakes its head slightly. “I have heard about you,” it says, raising its head haughtily. “You can call me Lysistrata; only my crew is allowed to call me Lys. Anne is my captain and if you make her unhappy again you will regret it.” The dragon pronounces these last words with a grin that shows fangs.

Frederick stares directly at those serpentine eyes. He remembers what he told Anne earlier and he still means it. With grace and dignity, he composes himself.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lysistrata,” he says, bowing deeply.

Lysistrata seems satisfied at his conduct for she turns her attention to Mackenzie, ordering him to get her a meal. Anne drifts to a rather secluded spot, some distance away from her dragon. Frederick follows her. She looks apologetic and anxious.

“So you see,” Anne says with a nervous smile. “I understand if you want to rescind your proposal.”

Frederick doesn’t reply immediately. He locks his eyes with her, takes her hand, and kisses it.

“Anne,” he says. “Brilliant, beautiful Anne. I will have you if you will have me.”

The smile that she gives him is an answer any ardent lover would be glad to have.


End file.
